


radio wires soldered to my heart

by liadan14



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abusive Lonnie Byers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Monsters, Bisexual Steve Harrington, First Time, Gay Billy Hargrove, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Just Human Monsters, Lesbian Barbara "Barb" Holland, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Panic Attacks, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23260513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liadan14/pseuds/liadan14
Summary: Billy is cautious around Steve at first.To be honest, this pisses Steve the fuck off. What reason does Billy have to be cautious? None, that’s what. None at all. Steve should be the one edging as far away from Billy as he can get in the backseat of Billy’s car while they smoke up, who’s flinching back from Billy’s touch when they pass each other the joint. He’s the one who got beaten within an inch of his life in the Byers’ living room a month ago because Billy couldn’t get it through his thick head that Steve was literally just lame enough to be friends with Dustin Henderson, and not trying to screw Billy’s thirteen-year-old step-sister.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 25
Kudos: 400





	radio wires soldered to my heart

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my modern!AU - Harringrove fic, in which there are no monsters except for the human kind. Content warnings: Implied/referenced child abuse, both physical and emotional, mentions of addiction (not Steve or Billy), a lot of mental health stuff, in particular a description of a panic attack, graphic sexual content (consensual), homophobia and homophobic language and spoilers for Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker.

Billy’s dangerous. He drives really badly, even for Indiana, too fast and rough on his used ( _vintage_ ) car. He smokes Robin out behind the bicycle stand during free period, and eventually, that turns into getting high after they both get out of their shitty minimum-wage after-school jobs. 

He has shit taste in music and he posts gross, topless selfies that show off his illegally gotten tattoo on Instagram, but like.

Robin’s living in a time when each new election threatens to restrict her bodily autonomy and her right to get married. She doesn’t remember a time when airports weren’t in a state of heightened security. Her family’s about two medical emergencies away from bankruptcy, and her uncle’s already had one heart attack. In the grand scheme of things, Robin hanging out with a dangerous guy seems laughable, especially because she’s not about to get pregnant or anything.

To hear Steve Harrington talk about it, you’d think it was sure to get Robin landed in Juvie or something.

“He’s bad news is all I’m saying,” Steve tells her, scooping a triple fudge sundae for Erica Sinclair. “Did you not _see_ my face for, like, all of November?”

Robin shrugs. “Yeah, but I also saw your face after you called Nancy a slut in front of Jonathan Byers the November before that.”

Steve turns to her with wide eyes, gesturing frantically in a way Robin assumes means, _not in front of the kids_.

“I’m _waiting_ here,” Erica reminds them.

If only God had granted Robin the same self-confidence.

Steve gives her an extra spritz of whipped cream to make up for the wait and she stalks off with her posse, presumably to eat their weight in sugar and metastasize into the true eldritch horrors Robin knows them to be underneath all the brightly-colored berets.

“I hope you know you’re contributing to the child obesity epidemic in America,” Robin tells Steve, only sort of joking.

Steve grimaces. “Michelle Obama would shut us down,” he agrees.

“God,” Robin says. “I miss the Obamas.”

“I know, right?” Steve picks at his uniform top miserably. “Hey, wait, you’re distracting me. Hargrove is bad news and he’s going to get you in trouble.”

Robin snorts. “Not likely, dude. I get that you and him don’t get along, and that’s his bad, but for real. We just get high.”

“The _kids_ , Robin.”

“The kids don’t care,” she says. Her dumb sailor hat is tilted a little. She digs her phone out of the pockets the uniform blessedly has (because she campaigned to be allowed to wear the men’s shorts, not the frankly prehistoric women’s uniform), shoots a selfie and posts it to her Insta story with the caption, “slave 2 capitalism” in bold.

“Just promise me you’ll call me if he makes you feel uncomfortable,” Steve says, reacting to her story with a series of ice cream emojis. 

“All right, dingus,” Robins says. “Sure you don’t wanna just come with us?”

In retrospect, this is maybe a dumb idea.

-

Billy is cautious around Steve at first.

To be honest, this pisses Steve the fuck off. What reason does Billy have to be cautious? None, that’s what. None at all. Steve should be the one edging as far away from Billy as he can get in the backseat of Billy’s car while they smoke up, who’s flinching back from Billy’s touch when they pass each other the joint. He’s the one who got beaten within an inch of his life in the Byers’ living room a month ago because Billy couldn’t get it through his thick head that Steve was literally just lame enough to be friends with Dustin Henderson, and not trying to screw Billy’s thirteen-year-old step-sister.

Then again, Billy had apparently found a better dealer in eight months of living in Hawkins than Steve had in eighteen years, so, swings and roundabouts.

“What’s your deal, Hargrove?” He asks, pissy, when Billy’s dropped Robin off at her house and Steve’s still sprawled in the front seat, to agitated to really enjoy his high.

Billy pushes the curls that have fallen out of his bun out of his eyes. “I ain’t got no deal, Harrington,” he says, like he’s an extra in _Grease_ and not just some asshole who goes to Steve’s school.

“Bullshit,” Steve tells him.

Billy’s fingers clench hard on the steering wheel and Steve wonders if he’s going to get punched again, but they drive to Loch Nora in silence.

He’s worked himself up into righteous anger by the time Billy pulls into his driveway – mostly to cover the fear he’s tried really hard to bury ever since Mrs. Byers dropped him off at an empty house after the hospital declared him concussion-free despite Billy’s beating – and he’s just about ready to storm out of the car in a huff when Billy finally speaks.

“I’m really sorry,” he says.

It’s the _really_ that makes Steve pause.

That, and the raw note in Billy’s voice.

“Are you,” he says, settling back into the seat. 

“Yeah,” Billy says. “I really am.”

Steve thunks his head against the leather headrest. “Why’d you do it?”

“I was worried about Max,” Billy says. 

Steve says nothing, but his hand inches back toward the door.

“My dad was…on my case,” Billy adds. “Maxine’s my responsibility, and I let her out of my sight, and that usually doesn’t end well. He was angry at me and I was just payin’ it forward. ‘S not cool. I shouldn’t have. I know you’re not…I know you wouldn’t hurt her.”

Steve picks at a loose thread in the seam of his chinos. “I guess you didn’t know me then,” he says. “You couldn’t know I wasn’t that kind of asshole.”

“Still not okay.”

“No, it’s not,” Steve says. “I accept.”

“You what now?”

“Your apology. I accept it. Wanna come in?”

Billy follows him into the house, ripped jeans and earrings out of place in the warm light of the Harrington’s hallway. He must know it himself, but Steve just pretends it’s not true. Nancy always looked right at home, the lighting softening out the sharpness of her chin, her curls glowing. Billy’s look better.

“You want a drink?” Steve asks, headed for the fridge. “I got beer and Pepsi.”

“Don’t get crossfaded anymore,” Billy admits. “Soda’d be great.”

“Why not?” Steve asks, cracking open his own soda.

Billy shrugs. “Gets me really trashed. Dizzy. Don’t like it.”

“That’s fair,” Steve says. “Fair warning, weed sometimes gets me paranoid, ever since…” he trails off.

Billy looks stricken.

“No, no, not that,” Steve says hurriedly. “You are not the first person to beat me up in the Byers house.”

Billy relaxes in increments, leaned against the kitchen counter with his Pepsi, while Steve tells him the whole story, how Barb had left to finish high school in Indianapolis when Tommy H. and Carol’s bullying became too much for her to stand, how Steve hadn’t even realized what they were bullying her about until it almost lost him Nancy, how he’d tried to chase her down and ended up head-to-head with an equally terrifying homophobe in the form of Lonnie Byers, looming over his missing-presumed-dead son in the Byers house, trying to scare him straight.

Billy says nothing for a while when Steve’s finished talking. He takes a long drink from his soda can, emptying it. “Fucking Indiana,” he says.

“Amen,” Steve says.

“So Byers and his dad both beat you up?”

Steve laughs sharply. “Yup, in less than twenty-four hours.”

“ _And_ he’s dating your ex?”

Steve nods. 

Billy whistles. 

“It’s not that bad,” Steve feels compelled to add. “Me and Nancy were never really meant to be. And Jonathan was just protecting her because I was being a dick. And you’ve met Will Byers. Anyone would get beat up to protect him.”

“So,” Billy says. “You’re all…cool with all that stuff.”

“All what stuff?” Steve asks.

“Y’know, Barb, and, um, Will, I guess.”

“Of course,” Steve says. “I’m not a monster. Not sure where we’re all at about just assuming Will’s gay, though, we kind of don’t talk about it at all.” He doesn’t mention that he’s uncomfortably sure Will had at least a minor crush on him after he let Lonnie beat him up to protect Will.

“Oh,” Billy says. “That’s…cool.”

This is how, two minutes later, Steve ends up making out with Billy Hargrove up against his mom’s marble kitchen countertops, his right hand tangled with Billy’s left.

-

It’s not like Billy became friends with Robin because she was friends with Steve. He started hanging out with her when he decided he couldn’t take a single second more of listening to Tommy H., and, knowing what he knows now, he’s glad he made that call. Leave it to him to find the least tolerant dipshits in all of Hawkins. Robin’s the only person in AP English who’s read the books besides him, and the collection of obscure band pins on her messenger bag clues him in she must be sort of cool.

Now that they are friends, though, it’s certainly a perk.

Instead of spending too much time watching chicks in painted-on skinny jeans and flannel shirts warily, trying to hit a note between just sleazy enough to be believable and not sleazy enough to be an actual sex offender at an endless parade of boring parties, he watches arthouse movies sitting on Robin’s floor some Friday nights. Steve sits sprawled at his side, hair artfully tousled even after wearing his uniform cap from the ice cream store for the whole afternoon, complaining through the entire movie.

Robin and Steve take him bowling with Nancy and Jonathan other nights, which is a special kind of hell as far as Billy is concerned, but he at least gets to watch Steve show off his perfect form (the most useless talent in the world) as he bowls strike after strike in the tightest pants Billy’s ever seen a guy wear east of Salt Lake City.

Invariably, Billy ends the night with Steve. 

Billy’s the only one with a car, is the thing. Robin’s college fund is scrimped and saved together from what she’s earned in a serious of degrading customer service jobs. Scoops Ice Cream is just the first to make her wear a costume. There's no room for a car in that.

Steve had a car, but his parents took it away when he didn’t get into his Dad’s alma mater in November. You could probably say that Steve never really had a car, he had a loan from his dad with the expected refund and interest of Steve living the life his dad wants him to. 

So whenever they hang out, Billy will either drop Robin off first and then Steve on his way back to home, or he and Steve will leave Robin’s together.

It takes very, very little time for things to escalate.

What starts as an unexpected, if wholly welcome make-out session in Steve’s kitchen turns very quickly into second base – rounding third – in the backseat of Billy’s car.

Billy has a mixed-up relationship to his own desires. He knows this, he’s fully aware, he has been for years now. Never as acutely, as harshly, as when he first came to Hawkins and got told the cutest boy in school had screwed Nancy Wheeler straight so effectively she’d dumped him for another dude (when he told Steve that that was how Tommy was selling the story, he’d laughed for a solid three minutes, and then told Nancy). He’d channeled his desire into his fists then, as he had every time Neil had beaten the notion into him before, but he still knew what he wanted.

He’s not sure what to do with his desires now he has them.

Not like _that_. He knows what to do with _that_ , hands sneaking up the back of Steve’s mint green polo with his tongue at Steve’s neck.

He means, like, emotionally.

Billy’s snuck around before – he’s had to, he’s been on his dad’s shitlist for so long that he’s not sure if his dad hates him for his personality or if his personality is just composed of all the things Billy has learned his dad hates on principle. 

He’s still not prepared for how his heart thunders in his chest all evening, his pinky finger inches away from Steve’s on the rough carpeting of Robin’s floor when they watch movies. Sweat breaks out on the back of his neck when he dares press their fingers together under the cover of darkness, the only lighting in the room coming from the aggressive blue filter on the movie.

He’s not prepared for how he gets the jitters like he’s had too much coffee in the seconds after Robin says goodnight, while he works out how to ask if Steve wants to go make out by the quarry.

He’s never been and never will be prepared for how Steve _looks_ at him, eyes hazy, lips kissed red, chest heaving, after Billy had to pull over two streets down from Robin’s house to kiss him stupid, and says, “You could come over tonight, instead.”

Billy’s brain essentially flatlines.

“My parents are gone,” Steve says. “At least till next week.” His hand’s resting just by Billy’s on the gear shift – he’s got great hands, long fingers – and he grabs Billy’s hand, tangles their fingers together.

Billy’s glad of the dark. He knows he’s blushing bright red. “You want…” he trails off. “You want that?” 

Steve’s other hand comes up to cup the curve of Billy’s cheek. “I’m down if you are,” he says.

It’s laughable, really, that Steve Harrington is down for anything. He’s the preppiest person Billy’s ever met in his life. The closest he’s gotten to being “down” is listening to Drake pretending to have any sort of street cred besides the money he earned doing Degrassi.

“I’m down,” Billy says. “I’m _so_ down.”

“You sure?” Steve asks. “’Cause, like, consent and stuff—“

“I’m sure,” Billy says. “Are _you_?”

“Oh my god,” Steve says. “I’m gonna be real here, I really wanna touch you, Billy, it’s kinda killing me. I’m so sure.”

Billy runs a few stop signs on the way to Steve’s house.

Steve’s bed’s a queen. He has dark green sheets – school colors, Billy notes with something that’s not quite fondness and not quite disgust – and a mess of papers strewn all across his desk. His hair doesn’t quite survive it when he pulls his shirt off over his head, the artful construction of it just a little less perfect. 

Billy’s not self-conscious about how he looks with his shirt off. He knows he looks good. He puts in the hours, too. He is self-conscious about the mottled bruises that never quite fade along his collarbone and, currently, across his ribs, but Steve doesn’t say anything. His fingers had trailed there before, the first time they hooked up by the quarry, and Billy had hissed and flinched because the marks were new. Steve hadn’t asked then either, but Billy had found a list of phone numbers scrawled on a ripped-off piece of paper shoved into his locker a few days later, cell numbers noted as “Hop (Chief of Po.)”, “Joyce Byers (she’s nice I swear)” and simply “Steve”. Billy’s only used one of those number so far, and mostly to send memes.

Steve’s still gentle when he touches Billy, now, in his bed. He runs his warm hands over the sensitive skin of Billy’s ribs, of his sides, rubs his thumbs across Billy’s nipples. He’s on his knees between Billy’s thighs, leaning down over him, alternating between deep, soft kisses and pecks up and down Billy’s neck, Billy’s collarbone.

Billy struggles through the haze of feeling, pulls his hand away from the smooth plane of Steve’s back. “You don’t have to go so slow,” he says.

“Maybe I want to,” Steve grins.

“You do you, princess.”

Steve does.

Apparently, what that entails is long, slow kisses, pressed tight together from chest to hip, the heat rising in the room and Billy’s head until he can barely think. Steve has chest hair, more than Billy does, and it’s dark and thick and rasps against Billy’s palms when Billy runs his hands up and down Steve’s body. Steve rumbles a low sound against Billy’s lips and Billy—Billy tilts his head to the side to get Steve’s mouth back on his neck. Billy sighs, stretches so that more of his body touches Steve. Billy rubs their hips closer together, just a bit, off-center and much less urgent than he feels.

“Knew you’d like it my way,” Steve says smugly, but he’s fumbling between their hips to get the button on Billy’s jeans open.

They rub off each other like that, jeans open and pushed down just far enough, Billy’s hand tight around both of them, Steve above him, moving his hips in a slow grind until Billy’s sobbing out against Steve’s lips, shooting hot and sticky between them. Steve’s not far behind.

He collapses next to Billy moments later. He can’t even bring himself to stop touching Billy then, keeps them close together, his arm thrown across Billy’s chest.

“So,” he says, nosing his way into Billy’s hair, which must have come loose at some point. “I want to do a lot more of that with you.”

Billy grins despite himself.

-

It’s not like Steve set out to be secretive. He’s not good at it. His feelings read easy on his face, and Dustin’s already asked him twice what he’s thinking about when he gets that mushy look while they take the bus to school together and Steve catches a glimpse of Billy’s car ahead of them in traffic.

Steve was never exactly intentionally closeted, but he always figured Being Bi would be something he did after he left Hawkins, content enough to play straight and rich enough to get away with being the way he is, kind of sensitive and too into Rihanna in the wrong way without people thinking anything of it. Then, with everything that happened with Barb and Will, he’d just shut up about it.

Billy, though, Billy’s closeted and careful for good reasons. If he were one of Steve’s kids (shut up, they’re his kids, he does after-school programs at the middle school now and it’s okay to call them that), Steve would be on the phone to Hopper instantly. As is, he doesn’t dare. Billy’s only a few months off from graduation, and Steve’s not going to ruin that for him.

He’s also just a little bit selfish about Billy. He knows, instinctively, that any attempt on his part to get Billy away from his dad will end with him, alone, and even worse, Billy, alone and angry.

So Steve doesn’t say anything about it.

When Robin needles him at work about how he’s changed his tune about Billy mighty fast, Steve just shrugs and pretends to be really invested in refilling the Rocky Road. “Maybe you were right about him,” is all he says about it.

Tammy Thompson and Heather Holloway walk in together, just after that, so Robin’s distracted anyway.

He still makes sure to tilt his phone away from her when he’s messaging Billy. He wasn’t quite dumb enough to put a heart emoji next to Billy’s name, but most of the messages are a dead giveaway.

Mostly, he’s shocked at how much of a bad idea it doesn’t feel like. 

They’re too much alike, him and Billy, full of bad decisions and an endless hunger for touch, and Steve finds that, with the knowledge that he’ll get Billy’s hands on him again at the end of the day, his worst, stupidest impulses to challenge his dad, to challenge his friends, to make an ass of himself, are easier to keep in check. He’s not sure, but he thinks it might be the same for Billy.

It’s Billy who sets the idea in his head to apply for colleges he actually wants to go to.

Billy makes him write a different essay than the one Nancy tore to shreds.

Billy, when Steve says he has no special talents besides bowling, throws a No. 2 pencil at Steve’s forehead. 

“What do you like doing?” He asks, exasperated.

Steve shrugs. “I like basketball. I like…hanging out with people. Like the kids. Talking to them. I like music.”

“Uh-huh,” Billy says. “Anything you’d like to do with that?”

Steve shrugs, staring at his ceiling. “It’s not like taking care of kids is a profession or anything.”

Billy throws his whole pencil case at Steve. “It’s like four different professions, you fuckwit,” he says, but he says it like he’s laughing.

It’s only later that he texts, the strangely hesitant words _I applied to some of the same schools, you know_ lighting up on the lockscreen of Steve’s phone.

Steve texts back, _u think we could be roomies?_

Billy doesn’t answer him that night and Steve lies awake, thinking in circles about if he shouldn’t have said that, if it was too real, if Billy maybe doesn’t want that. That sets him off into remembering Nancy, and how Nancy didn’t want any of the things Steve did, and eventually, that leads him inescapably to Barb.

He finds her Insta around 2 AM, sitting up with his back to the wall, irritated at the wind outside and the way he’ll occasionally hear his dad snore three rooms away and just everything. It’s almost as bad as Jonathan’s account, all these artsy photos of parking lots and neon signs and plants in retro filters. He catches sight of a rare picture of Barb herself, smiling at something off-camera, wearing one of the loose-fitting sweaters Carol used to love to hate. It must have been the weekend Nancy and Jonathan visited her in Indianapolis, because they’re tagged in the description.

He shoots her a message before he can stop himself, just a heartfelt apology he’s been carrying in his heart for more than a year now.

Billy still hasn’t answered him by the time he wakes up the next morning, but Barb has. She tells him it’s okay, and it wasn’t him who was a dick, it was his friends.

 _it’s not okay,_ he writes back, surprised at his own aggressiveness. _i knew better and i should have been better. glad your doing well tho. you look rly happy._

 _don’t be too hard on yourself,_ she sends back. Steve opens it standing by his locker, waiting for the bell to ring. He catches sight of Billy’s hair across the hallway. His heart jumps a beat. _people screw up sometimes. I appreciate the apology._

 _i think i’m in love with a boy,_ he sends back.

He drops his phone into his backpack and spends the first three periods trying not to think about it. Billy might help him with his impulse control, but it’s still not exactly stellar.

When he finally checks it, he has seven new messages from Barb. The first three are all exclamation points and question marks. The fourth is just, _who_. The fifth is _you don’t have to answer that_. The sixth is _just, omg. are you ok? is this new?_

The seventh makes Steve smile. It’s, _thx for telling me_.

He leaves her hanging till lunch, and then he goes out to sit on the bleachers and eat a PB&J he made himself this morning. He’s feeling a little too fragile to handle the cafeteria right now.

 _your a super cool person,_ Steve writes back between bites of his sandwich. _thx for being so chill about this. its not new about me, ive always been bi. its new with him, tho. and i cant tell anyone here. i just dont kno if he feels the same. i think i scared him off._

“Hey,” Billy says, startling Steve mid-bite. “You hiding?”

Steve shrugs. “Not really in a cafeteria mood,” he says. 

“Kay.” Billy bites into an apple and sits down next to Steve. 

“Did I fuck up?” Steve asks, rushed and sudden. “About the roomie thing? Is that—”

“No,” Billy says. He’s staring down at the football field, but his ears are really red. “That was cool. I mean, maybe we shouldn’t be roommates right off the bat, but, uh.” He shifts in his seat. “I’d like it if we were…y’know, next year?”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, delighted.

“Yeah,” Billy says.

Steve doesn’t dare ask him to make out under the bleachers, but he does bump their knees together.

He texts Barb that night, _nvm did not scare him off. its just scarier then i thought to feel this way about a dude._

 _I hear that,_ she writes back. _you could talk to Nance, I bet. and she says you all hang out with some new chick who’s out?_

 _cant tell them about him,_ Steve says. _he’s not out and his family sitch is bad._

 _gotcha_ , she texts back. All she sends him for the rest of the night are gifs of sad cats.

-

Billy has down days, sometimes.

Usually after his mom calls.

When he gets into it with Neil, it makes him defiant, angry. Makes him want to live up to all the shit Neil says about him, makes him go out looking for fights and booze and drugs.

When his mom calls, it makes him remember why he can never seem to do more than get a little tipsy on cheap beer, get stoned for a chill night in with Robin and now, Steve.

His mom only ever calls when she’s sober, and she always promises things are looking up for her, that she’s been clean for a while. She’s on her third month of telling him so, now, which is the longest she’s managed this year.

The only reason he goes to school the day after her call is because staying home with his dad is a worse option. He’s counting down the seconds till he can leave Hawkins, leave Neil, leave being his parents’ son behind.

The way Steve smiles at him, hopeful and dorky, when they’re both pulling shit out of their lockers at not even eight AM, is a punch to the gut. Steve’s so good, so hopeful. He wants to go to college with Billy, be around him in a year’s time, like no one’s ever wanted before. When Billy feels like this, contaminated, he wants to stay away.

“We still on for taking everyone to see Star Wars?” Steve asks him over lunch. Billy could kick himself for following Steve out to the bleachers last week, because Steve would definitely do the same for him, now, and Billy would probably start crying or something.

“Yeah,” Billy says, because he promised Max, no matter how shit he feels.

“Cool,” Steve says, and goes back to his waffle fries.

He zones out through almost the entire movie. There’s four kids sitting between him and Steve, and Henderson actually brought a notepad and a pen to the movie. Steve’s occupied and not paying him any mind. Robin got here late after closing up Scoops, so she’s on Steve’s other side. No one’s really going to notice that Billy couldn’t give less of a fuck about Kylo Ren’s redemption arc. 

It’s a loud movie, though. Billy can’t seem to hold a single thought in his head that doesn’t get interrupted by an explosion or a lightsaber or something. There’s too much stuff on screen, and his head starts pounding about halfway through the movie. At the same time, there’s a B-track running through the back of his mind, reminding him how right Neil is to call him a worthless piece of shit, how he’s genetically predestined to fuck up everything in his life. 

The tenuous thread he’s holding on by snaps when they leave the theater some indiscernible amount of time later. The mall’s lighting is fucking blinding, and the theater next door was really full and let out at the same time, it’s loud and crowded and Henderson and Baby Byers are talking way too much and too loudly about a movie that’s been out for more than a month that they’ve both seen twice already.

Abruptly, Billy can’t quite catch his breath. He starts feeling dizzy, gulping in air too fast and not getting any of it. His head pounds. His heart races.

He stutters something about the restroom and basically sprints for the furthest one away from the theater. The fluorescent lights don’t help his head any, but it’s quiet and the tiles are cold when he leans back against them.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there, head tipped back against the wall, just trying to breathe, when the door bursts open. He flinches across his whole body.

“Hey,” Steve says gently. He sounds like he’s under water, but that might just be the blood rushing in Billy’s ears. “Hey, it’s only me.” He’s by Billy’s side in an instant, hand warm on Billy’s shoulder. 

“Billy,” Robin says on his other side. “Billy, can you hear me?”

Billy nods.

“Okay, is it alright if I touch you?”

Steve pulls his hand back as if burned. Billy pushes back towards him. He stutters out an affirmation to Robin, and she grabs the hand closer to her.

“Okay,” she says, “I’m gonna need you to breathe with me, okay? Breathe in –” she demonstrates, slowly, “hold, and out.”

Billy follows her lead.

It takes a while, but eventually he starts breathing well enough to feel like an idiot, standing in a public bathroom and being told how to breathe.

“Are you feeling better?” Steve asks him eventually. His hand is still on Billy’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Billy croaks. “I think so.” He’s sweated through his t-shirt completely and he’s starting to shiver, but he can breathe and his head is almost clear. “Sorry.”

“Never apologize,” Steve says. “Not for that.”

“What he said,” Robin agrees. “Do you take meds?”

“Meds?” Billy asks blankly.

“I take Clonopin,” Will Byers says. Billy’s not entirely sure when he got here. “I get them, too. Panic attacks. I’d give you one but my mom would kill me for giving you prescription pills.”

“No,” Billy says. It’s too loud and too vehement. He tries to soften his voice. “I don’t wanna take drugs.”

“Okay,” Will says. “My therapist says it’s important to take them, the first couple times, ‘cause it’s supposed to stop your body from getting in the habit of, y’know, panicking.”

“I don’t want—” Billy stops, not wanting to sound too mean.

“It’s cool,” Will says. “Sorry you’re not feeling good.”

Billy tries to muster a smile, but it probably comes out more of a grimace. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Robin asks. “You don’t have to.”

Billy considers trying to explain himself. He gets as far as saying, “My mom—” but then realizes that if he has to say, _my mom called and she’s an addict and I’m scared I’m going to fuck my life up just like she keeps doing and that I’m not good enough for Steve and that my dad’s going to kill me someday_ , he’ll regret it, so he stops and shakes his head.

“Hey,” Steve says. “Are hugs okay? I really wanna give you a hug.”

“’M all gross and sweaty,” Billy says.

Steve wraps him up in an enormous bear hug. “You deserve all the hugs,” he says, low against Billy’s ear. Billy takes it.

“Ugh,” he says, when they separate. “Fuck, I need to drive the kids home, they must be waiting.”

Will smiles at him from where he’s leaning against the sinks, one eye on the door (lookout, he must have been the lookout to stop anyone from coming in and interrupting Billy’s panic attack, fuck). “Dustin and Lucas are explaining everything they hate about the movie to Max,” he says. “They have a list. The first two pages are about the opening text crawl. They probably haven't noticed anything is up.”

Billy lets out a deep breath. “Bringing Palpatine back was fucking stupid,” he says.

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Okay,” he says. “Here’s what we do. You give me your car keys, I take the brats home, and then I double back and get you two.”

“What will we say about why I’m not doing it?” Billy asks.

“Do you ever get headaches?” Will asks.

Billy shrugs. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Congrats,” Steve says. “You’ve been upgraded to migraines.”

“It’s what we say when I get one,” Will says. 

Billy’s too tired to analyze that any further.

Robin takes him to the food court, buys him a smoothie. It’s pretty empty, past nine on a weeknight in January. Billy still feels exposed.

He starts shivering not much later, his t-shirt still damp with sweat and his leather jacket not helping much. When Steve gets back, he wraps Billy up in his sweater and won’t listen to protests.

He also won’t let Billy drive.

“I gotta take you home,” Billy protests after they’ve dropped Robin off.

“I live like four blocks away from you,” Steve says. “I’ll walk. Unless you wanna come over?”

“Not in the mood,” Billy says, staring out the window. 

Steve takes a hand off the steering wheel, reaches over to brush through Billy’s hair. “I didn’t mean for that. I meant just…if you don’t wanna be alone. You know you can always come be with me.”

Billy looks over at him. “Thanks,” he says. “I wish I could. But it’s Thursday. My dad’ll wonder.”

Steve swallows heavily. “I don’t know if this helps,” he says, pulling into the Hargrove’s driveway (it’s two lines of tracked down dirt on the grass, really). “But I really care about you.”

“It helps,” Billy says, voice choked up in his throat. “I—you too.” He feels like he’s been kicked in the chest.

He makes it into the house and into his room without getting interrupted, but that’s where his luck runs out.

His dad barges in less than three minutes after he’s gotten into his room. He’s only just gotten Steve’s sweater off and tucked under his comforter, but at least he won’t have to explain that away.

“Maxine said your friend drove her home,” Neil says.

Billy nods.

“Any particular reason you didn’t do it yourself, like you promised when I let you go see a movie on a weeknight?”

Billy swallows heavily. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Did you take something?” Neil asks, dangerously calm.

“No,” Billy says.

“Son, did you take something?” Neil asks again, looming over Billy where he’s sitting on the bed. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Billy says through gritted teeth and another unwanted swell of tears.

Neil says nothing, but he doesn’t leave or give Billy any more space, waiting.

“I swear I didn’t take anything, okay?” Billy says. “Mom called me and it messed me up.”

His dad sighs heavily and drops a too-heavy hand on Billy’s shoulder. “You gotta man up someday,” he says, and leaves Billy alone.

-

The first time they fuck – really fuck – they do it in Steve’s bed on a Friday night in late February when Neil’s away for a business trip and Steve’s parents are only scheduled to come back late at night.

It’s such a cliché.

Steve kind of feels like he’s in a bad movie when he talks to Billy about it, the Wednesday before, sitting in the backseat of his car at the quarry when Billy’s dad thinks he’s at basketball practice, not knowing it got cancelled this week.

“So,” he says, lacing their fingers together, “We’ve been dating a couple months now—”

“We have?” Billy interrupts, eyes comically wide, hand coming up to clutch his chest.

“Shut up,” Steve tells him fondly. 

Billy laughs. “Sorry, what about it?”

“Um, so I was thinking, maybe we could take the…next step?”

“You wanna take me to prom?”

Steve sighs, exasperated. “No, I mean…um…”

“If you can’t say it, you aren’t old enough to do it.”

Steve’s glad Billy’s in a good enough mood to make fun of him, really, he is. He likes it a lot better than when Billy gets withdrawn and sad. It’s still a pain in the neck when he’s trying to have a serious conversation.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

Billy’s hand clenches around his. “We already have sex.”

“I mean, like, anal. We don’t have to or anything, but I kinda wanna try if that’s something you’re into.” _Kinda wanna try_ is maybe an understatement, given that Steve’s spent the last three Sunday nights fucking himself on his fingers thinking about how it feels when Billy pulls him onto his lap and holds him tight there, but he doesn’t really know how to tell Billy that.

“Yeah,” Billy says. “I wanna.” It’s not dark out yet, like it usually is when they make out at the quarry, and Steve can see the blush high on his cheeks. His heartbeat jumps.

Billy comes over at around seven on Friday evening. He’s got his hair in a bun like always, but he’s wearing a button-up shirt instead of one of his endless t-shirts of bands Steve has either never heard of or assumed people only ever listened to on the classic rock station. Steve lets him in and tries to act like he didn’t spend an hour in the shower getting ready for this, like he’s not painfully nervous and also desperate for it.

It takes until they’re lying in Steve’s bed, fully clothed, for Steve’s nerves to settle. Even then, it’s only because Billy’s hands are so gentle on his ribs, more like how Steve usually touches him than vice versa. “We don’t have to do this,” Billy reminds him.

“I really want to know what it’s like,” Steve admits. “I’ve tried, by myself, but I really want you to do it.”

Billy closes his eyes and thunks his forehead against Steve’s. “Jesus Christ,” he says, and kisses Steve deeply.

They lose long, comfortable moments, kissing. It’s one of Steve’s favorite things, kissing Billy. He doesn’t get to do it nearly enough, when their friends are close by. “I wish I could always kiss you,” he tell Billy, a little woozy on kisses and anticipation.

“Sorry,” Billy says.

“What are you sorry for?”

“That you can’t be…out, with me. I know you want that, to go on dates and shit.”

“I don’t want that.”

“ _Steve_.”

“Okay, maybe I’d want that,” Steve says, and props himself up on his elbow to look at Billy. “But I only want that with _you_ and I can wait.”

Billy presses him down into the sheets and kisses him until Steve’s not sure which way is up. He breaks away to lick along Steve’s collarbone, to unbutton his shirt and set his teeth and Steve’s nipples. Steve groans and hitches his hips up, annoyed at how tight his skinny jeans are.

“Can I take these off?” Billy asks.

Steve nods.

There’s an awkward pause where they both get naked and Steve scrambles for the lube and condoms in his dresser drawer. 

“Will you—” Steve asks at the same time as Billy asks, “Can I—”

Steve grins at him, bashful and dorky in all the worst ways, but it must be alright, because Billy kisses him again, gets his fingers slicked up and reaches between Steve’s legs. He traces around Steve’s hole softly first, then slides his first finger in. “Okay?” Billy asks.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, spreading his legs wider. “You can go for more, I kinda…you know, in the shower.”

“Got yourself ready for me?” Billy asks, a trace of his usual smugness spreading across his face.

“Yeah,” Steve says, too far gone to front. “Thought about you.”

Billy slides in a second finger, deeper, and Steve arches his back, trying to get Billy’s fingers on the right spot. When Billy finds it, he _moans_.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Billy says.

“Fuck you, I’m always pretty,” Steve says.

“Can’t argue that.” Billy slides in a third finger and starts crooking them in a rhythm. Steve loses the ability to respond in words.

Eventually, he gets himself up onto his elbows, grabs the base of his dick to calm down a little. “C’mon, fuck me already,” he says.

Billy fumbles the condom badly, fingers slippery with lube, and Steve kind of wants to tell him how much further it endears Billy to him, that he’s not always smooth, that Steve can make him clumsy with lust, but he doesn’t in case that’s too real.

It burns when Billy slides inside him, a lot more than he thought it would. He must make a face, because Billy stills with just the head inside. “Okay?”

“Wait a sec,” Steve grits out, losing a bit of urgency in his erection. 

Billy, on his knees above Steve, waits, trembling.

Steve closed his eyes tight and breathes, deeply. “Okay,” he says.

Billy grips his hips, fingers still sticky with lube. He pushes in deeper, punching the air out of Steve’s lungs, until he’s all the way inside. He groans, flushed, panting, and Steve’s never loved him more.

“I’m not gonna last long,” Billy says, hands clenching on Steve’s hips.

“Come on, then,” Steve says. “Fuck me.”

Billy does.

He goes slow at first, unsteady, trying to find a rhythm. Steve tries to shift so Billy’s hitting the right spot, lifts his hips, and Billy’s cock slips out. They fumble it back into place quickly, and on the next thrust in, Billy’s got it just right. Steve sighs happily.

It gets faster, then, steadier. Billy’s groaning a little under his breath with each thrust, chest rubbing up against Steve’s. “You feel so good,” Billy tells him, breath hot on Steve’s skin.

“You too,” Steve says, running his hands down Billy’s back. He clenches, experimentally, and Billy makes a noise like he’s hurting, only in a good way.

Steve does it again and pinches Billy’s nipple between his fingers.

Billy comes immediately, grinding his hips deeper into Steve and making all sorts of noise. Steve’s own cock jerks, watching it happen. Billy’s eyes are still hazy and post-orgasmic when he kneels back again, softening cock still inside Steve, and reaches for Steve’s dick with his lube-sticky hand. 

It’s probably kind of gross, sweat and lube and precome mixing as Billy jerks him off sloppy and fast, but Steve’s pretty far gone already. He clenches down hard again just to feel Billy inside him and shoots off all over his own stomach, sticking into his body hair.

Billy pulls out and gets the condom off and then sinks down into the sheets next to Steve. 

“Hey,” Steve says, dumb and motor-mouthed. “I really, really care about you.”

Billy smiles at him sleepily. “Me too.”

“No, I mean, _really, really_.”

Billy flicks his nipple. “I love you, too, dumbass.”

“Wh—hey,” Steve says. “That’s mean. Also, I love you.”

“Great. Can we shower now?”

They watch a few episodes of some Netflix documentary, freshly showered. Steve’s half-distracted by the twinge in his ass, half by the way Billy won’t stop playing with his hair. He’s not gone enough to miss Billy clearing his throat, though. 

“I never thought—”

“Hmm?”

Billy sighs, runs his palm over Steve’s back. “I’ve spent a really long time feeling shitty about who I am and who I like. It’s probably part of why I went so hard on you…you know when. So, um. Thanks, I guess, for being so patient with me.”

Steve kisses him on the jawline, then on the mouth. “I love you,” he says again, because he’s a sap.

-

Robin feels a little weird about Barb coming to town over Spring Break. It’s not that she’s not thrilled about there being another cool person around, it’s more that she’s worried she’s going to be supplanted when the Original Gay Friend returns.

The first night Barb comes with her, Steve, Billy, Nancy and Jonathan to hang out kind of feels like it proves her point. Hanging out with Nancy and Jonathan is still weird to Robin anyway; Jonathan is reserved to the point of making conversation difficult, and Robin’s often gotten the sense Nancy doesn’t really like her (or maybe she doesn’t really like Nancy, after the way Steve was when he first met Robin, after what Nancy had done to him). Adding Barb to the mix, who’s comfortable around Nancy and Jonathan and, apparently, Steve, but not her and Billy, leaves Robin feeling awkward and weirdly guilty. 

They’re hanging out by the quarry, one of the few scenic spots in Hawkins, emptied out because it’s still pretty cool out and there’s a mall and about three house parties going on. Nancy and Barb are talking about _The Great Gatsby_ , which, for Robin and Billy, as seniors, is so last year. Steve is laughing along like he cares, which Robin knows he doesn’t, but she also knows he gets anxious about how he thinks all his friends are smarter than him.

Robin nudges Billy in the side till he gets his grinder out of the glove compartment and starts rolling up. Passing the joint around cools Robin’s nerves and her irritation with the subject of conversation a little, at least until it gets to Barb, on Billy’s other side in their little circle. 

Barb takes the joint, but she looks so apprehensive, so dissatisfied with it, that conversation halts instantly.

Steve goes pale and a little shaky, clearly remembering something that happened a year and a half ago, as does Nancy.

It’s Billy who deescalates the situation, though. 

He plucks the joint out of her fingers, says, “Hey, don’t smoke if you don’t feel comfortable.”

Barb’s lips twitch in a half-smile. “I don’t,” she says.

“That’s cool,” Billy says. “Are you okay with us smoking? We shoulda asked.”

“No,” Barb says. “It’s fine.”

“You’re sure?” Robin pipes up. “I didn’t even think, sorry.”

Barb’s smile become a little more real. “It’s fine, I don’t mind other people doing it, I just don’t want to myself.”

Billy nods and takes a deep drag. He passes the joint to Robin. “I think you’re gonna have to repeat that for Harrington,” he says to Barb.

Barb makes an impatient noise. “Oh my god, Steve, if you apologize again—”

“But I’m sorry!” Steve says.

“We’re all sorry,” Nancy hurries to add. 

Barb shakes her head. “The only people who would need to be sorry are Tommy H. and Carol, and they’re not. Seriously, guys, I don’t want to ruin your night with my…whatever.”

Billy snorts out an indelicate laugh. “Aw, come on,” he says when Steve stares at him. “All your bygones literally cannot be more of a buzzkill than the time I almost beat your head in.”

Finally sensing a cue, Jonathan raises his hand. “Or the time I did.”

Robin laughs.

Barb settles a little in her skin, and asks, “So, uh, why exactly are we all friends now?”

Billy and Steve look at each other for an instant, then look away. Jonathan and Nancy look to Steve as well, but none of them seem to know how to put into words that they’re all kind of stuck with each other.

“Search me,” Robin says cheerfully. “I just work with Steve.”

“I think Nancy needed a new lesbian friend and adopted you,” Barb tells her.

“I could never replace you,” Robin tells her, only half-joking.

She takes a picture of the five of them, herself excluded, a weird union of people by any standard, with the sun setting over the quarry as backdrop, and posts it to her Instagram.

This turns out to be a _really_ dumb idea.

-

Tommy H. comes by Scoops every couple of weeks to give Steve a hard time. It’s pretty normal by now, after almost four months of this. He likes to make fun of the costume especially. Steve comforts himself with the thought that Tommy probably won’t be getting out of Hawkins any time soon while Steve has some minor chance of getting into college out of state. Still, he had his mandatory Tommy-visit about a week ago, which means he was hoping for a mercifully Tommy-free Spring Break of selling people ice cream for minimum wage.

Tommy walks in almost as soon as the store opens, like he’d been waiting for the chance.

“Har-ring-ton,” he drawls, leaning up against the cash register. “Word has it, you’re not only slumming it with your whore of an ex, you’re actually hanging with the freakiest of them all now.”

“What can I get for you today?” Steve asks, keeping his voice as even as he can, staring at a spot on the wall behind Tommy.

“I mean, I knew you were a desperate loner when you started hanging with this one here—” he gestures to Robin, who flashes him a grin that doesn’t meet her eyes and makes a rude gesture behind her back she can’t actually make towards Tommy because of corporate policy. “But seriously? The lesbian heifer comes back to town and you just decide she’s cool now?”

Steve’s fists clench around his scooper. “You son of a—”

“I really thought you’d have new material by now,” Barb says. She’s just come in through the door, and apparently caught the end of that. “I mean, it’s been a year and a half.”

Tommy turns to her, sneer widening. “Oh, and here it is in person, to visit your best buds at work! Buckley here your new girlfriend? Or is Harrington such a girl now that he’s a lesbian too?”

Barb is still standing tall, but Steve can see her start to shake. He remembers how she used to walk around school, shoulders hunched and not meeting anyone’s eyes. “The term is bisexual,” Steve says, before he can think the better of it. “And it doesn’t make me any more or less of a man.”

It’s like the air has been punched out of Tommy’s chest. 

He stares at Steve blankly for a moment. “Jesus Christ, Harrington,” he says eventually, and then leaves the shop, making a wide berth around Barb.

Steve collapses against the counter. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Barb says. “But thanks.”

“Holy shit, Steve,” Robin says. “Seriously?”

“I need to make a phone call,” Steve says, and sprints to the back before either of them can look at him too closely.

Billy picks up on the fifth ring.

“I fucked up,” Steve says hurriedly. “I fucked up bad, I told Tommy I’m bi.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Billy asks, voice tinny and distant but not angry.

“He came into the shop and he was bullying Barb again and I just…snapped.”

“Okay,” Billy says.

“Okay?” Steve shrieks. “Not okay! You’re gonna have to stay away from me, or he’ll start talking about you, too, and your dad—”

“Stevie,” Billy says. “Let me worry about that. What about _your_ dad?” 

Steve groans. He hadn’t even though that far.

“We’ll figure something out,” Billy tells him. “It’s only two more months till school ends.”

 _And then what?_ Steve wants to ask him. He’s finally heard back from the UC system, but unlike Billy, he has no chances of getting a scholarship, so if his parents decide to take his college fund or something, he’s fucked and working at Scoops for the rest of his natural life. “Yeah,” he chokes out.

“Look,” Billy says. “We’re all on break now, anyway. Let’s just…play it by ear when school starts again.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It was really brave of you,” Billy says, and then he hangs up.

With nothing else to do, Steve goes back outside. Robin’s in the process of giving Barb a free sample of every single flavor they have – it’s not against company policy, they checked the second time Erica Sinclair asked for it – but they stop at Cherry Cherry Lady when Steve comes back out.

“Are you okay?” Barb asks.

Steve shrugs.

“That was a really cool thing you did,” Robin tells him. “I promise to not call you a dingus all day.”

Steve manages a weak smile. “Thanks,” he says.

He spends the rest of the week walking on eggshells, sure he’s going to see Tommy around every corner, unable to relax when he’s around Billy. As far as he can tell, there have been no rumors so far, but he’s still constantly terrified his dad will put down his silverware at dinner and tell Steve what a disappointment he is.

Some Spring Break.

It takes about two days after school starts again for Tommy to corner him in the changing rooms before basketball to tell him all sorts of shit about how no one wants _his kind_ to watch them get naked.

“Trust me, Hagan,” Steve says tiredly, “You aren’t even a little bit my type.”

He’s almost certain he can hear a few of the other guys laugh.

Of course, Tommy then starts into this whole _everyone knows bisexuals fuck everything that moves_ spiel, and Steve feels incredibly tired. 

“You gonna shut your face anytime soon?” Billy asks. He’s shirtless – of course he is – and he’s angry. He’s been really kind to Steve ever since it happened, tolerant of Steve’s endless nerves and currently absent sex drive. _It’s literally the least I could do,_ he says when Steve thanks him for it. Clearly, his patience with the situation is still limited.

Tommy sneers. “Why? You don’t mind changing in front of this sicko?”

“Only person I mind changing in front of is you, asshole,” Billy says. Steve wants to tell him to stop, to get himself out of trouble.

“Aw, standing up for your little girlfriend,” Tommy jeers, and that’s about when it turns into a fistfight. Of course Steve has to get in the middle of it to stop it all happening, and of course he gets another fist to the jaw as thanks.

By the time his parents come to pick him up from the principal's office, all three of them have been suspended from the basketball team.

The car ride home is deadly silent. Steve’s dad makes him come into his office, scene of Steve’s worst conversations with his parents, and asks him what he has to say for himself.

Steve shrugs.

“Not only are you making no effort to get into college, you’re now wasting the only talent you’ve ever been shown to have,” his dad points out, calm and uncaring.

“I’ve applied to colleges,” Steve snaps. “I got into SF State.”

His father pauses briefly, then says, “That’s not one of the colleges we agreed on.”

“It’s not one of the colleges _you_ agreed on,” Steve says, “but it’s the one I’m going to.”

“At least it’s college.”

Steve adds nothing.

“I’m assuming there’s no athletic scholarship?”

“I’ll get a part-time job,” Steve says. “Not like I’m lacking in experience with that, now.”

His father drums his fingers on the desk. “And I’m not getting any explanation for today?”

“Tommy was saying some rude stuff about me. Billy wanted him to stop. They started fighting; I got in between.”

This is, of course, when Steve’s mother comes in and says, “Steve, dear, is there any reason Mrs. Hagan just called to tell me you were breaking the rules laid out in the bible and she won’t sit next to me in church anymore?”

Steve shuts his eyes tight and tells his parents, “I’m bi. Bisexual. Tommy found out and he’s…yeah.”

His parents are silent for a while, and when he dares look at them, neither of their expressions have really changed. 

“Well,” his dad says. “I guess that’s good news, they can’t kick you off the basketball team without getting a lawsuit threat.”

“Really?” Steve asks. “ _That’s_ what you care about?”

“Do you expect me to be thrilled?” 

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t even know what I expected.”

He stomps off to his room without waiting to hear whether there’s anything else his dad wants to say. He spends the rest of the day staring at his ceiling and scrolling through his phone, watching obsessively as everyone posts reaction shots about Steve Harrington being queer in their Insta stories or on Snapchat. He doesn’t even care that everyone can see he’s watching them. It’s too late now. Robin messages him the dumbest responses she can think to give to all the questions she’s gotten asked today. _Does Steve Harrington have a secret older boyfriend?_ \-- _Yes, but he’s a senator, so it’s all really hush-hush._ Nancy and Jonathan both message to assure him they aren’t telling anyone anything. 

Steve writes to Billy three separate times, but Billy never answers.

At about eight PM, Hopper rings the doorbell. Steve had been doing more scrolling through Instagram, pretending he wasn’t hungry so he didn’t have to sit in the same room as his parents, when he hears it. 

“If the Hagans are pressing charges—” he can hear his mom begin from the landing. He gets out of bed and peers down to see what’s going on.

“Steve,” Hopper says. “Can you come with me?”

“Sure,” Steve says. Hop isn’t likely to arrest him, not after all the work he put in getting Steve through being a material witness against Lonnie Byers both times he came back to Hawkins to harass his kids. 

“Now wait a minute,” Steve’s mom starts, but Hop isn’t having it.

Steve slips into his shoes and heads out the door.

Hop never really had much patience for people he doesn’t respect and it kind of warms Steve’s heart to know his parents belong in that category.

Steve’s heart sinks when they drive straight to the hospital.

“Billy Hargrove’s been asking for you,” Hop says, shutting off the engine. “I’m not at liberty to—”

“It was his dad,” Steve says. “Right? Because of what happened with Tommy today?”

Hop snorts. “Yeah. Why didn’t you send him to me earlier?”

“I tried,” Steve says. “But he only had a few months left before he finished high school, and he’s eighteen.”

Hop shakes his head and Steve feels himself sliding into the Hop-does-not-respect-you category. “Max called El,” he says, “and it’s damn lucky she did. Billy has a concussion and two cracked ribs. Neil Hargrove is in custody, but if Billy won’t say anything against him, I can’t keep him there.”

Steve spends the night by Billy’s bedside, holding his hand and helping the nurses wake him up every hour. His face looks about like Steve remembers his own face looking in November. It feels like years ago rather than months, when he was still afraid of Billy. In the morning, Billy refuses to speak out against Neil. 

“I won’t go into court,” Billy says blankly. “My mom tried to sue him for custody, and his lawyer dragged out every last detail about her drug use. It was humiliating and it didn’t work.”

Hop nods slowly, having driven in again with coffee and donuts, seeming totally unsurprised that Steve’s still there. “Would you consider recording a statement on tape?”

Billy shrugs uncomfortably. “He’s going to say a lot of shit about me using drugs and drinking underage and…”

“None of those things excuse him beating you up,” Steve points out.

“He’ll say he was trying to protect me from myself,” Billy says. The surety in his voice breaks Steve’s heart.

“Well,” Hop says, sitting down by the other side of Billy’s bed. “We all know that’s a load of bullshit, and so will any judge worth his salt.”

“We’re in Indiana,” Billy points out.

In the end, they only get a restraining order against Neil. It’s not enough, Steve thinks, but Billy doesn’t really like talking about it and Steve doesn’t want to push him. It’s enough that Max’s mom moves out with her daughter and that Billy’s safe, staying in Robin’s parent’s spare room for the two months left of the school year.

Robin had huffed for a while, when she first came to visit Billy in the hospital and found them so obviously together. She’s quick to understand why they hadn't told her when they explain, of course, and it’s a relief after that, to spend movie nights actually holding Billy’s hand instead of just thinking about it.

It’s a good thing Robin’s cool about it, too, because Steve is physically incapable of keeping his distance. He and Billy drive to school together, they hang out in every break, they eat lunch together, and they may not hold hands or kiss or anything, but with everything that happened, people wonder.

Robin, Jonathan and Nancy are their best protectors, acting aggressively like nothing has changed at all.

Maybe it hasn’t.

-

Robin’s almost sure they’ll make it through to the end of high school with no more drama. Surely there’s been enough by now.

She’s definitely not counting on Billy stopping Steve dead in the middle of the cafeteria on the last day of school, actually dipping him low and kissing him in front of the entire school.

There’s actually a smattering of applause as the kiss goes on for a full minute.

“Don’t encourage them,” she mutters.

Steve sits down across from her, flushed and grinning. “Don’t hate ‘cause you’re sad and single,” he sing-songs.

“I regret agreeing to go to college with you losers,” she says into her shitty cafeteria mashed potatoes.

“Lies,” Billy says loftily and steals her yogurt off her tray.

Robin decides that her time of making dumb decisions about her friends has certainly reached a middle.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is from [Hide by Rainbow Kitten Surprise](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aetcUc3ejPE) and if you want to cry a lot, go watch that video.
> 
> This started off as just a short sequence of different scenes from different third person limited POVs, and then it turned into 10k of angst about what I thought teenagers in modern day Indiana might be going through that would end them with a dynamic like Steve and Billy's. Whoops. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Also feel free to come hang out on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bewires).


End file.
